Octavia and Vinyl, childhood friends, begin their years of study in Canterlot Conservatory.
Years have passed since Octavia Philharmonica and Vinyl Scratch first met on the platforms of Canterlot Station. In the short time that they spent together, they became the best of friends. Then they separated, both of them returning to their homes, meeting one another with less and less frequency as time went on. Within a few years, they had only memories of each other, impressions of the fillies that they used to be.
And then they met again, in the hallways of the Canterlot Conservatory.
There is a certain amount of comfort in knowing another student in a new school. It is not the simplest matter to make friends, even to a species as naturally friendly as ponies, and the value of having at least one person to confide in cannot be overstated.
Octavia Philharmonica, however, was seriously beginning to question this value.
“Tavi, stop moving so much! That was comfortable!”
“Go find a pillow!”
“But you’re my pillow!”
“Get away from me, Vinyl!” Octavia placed a hoof on Vinyl Scratch’s forehead, making sure to avoid her horn, and pushed.
Vinyl struggled forward, hooves flailing but unable to reach the other mare. “Let me love you!”
Octavia pushed one more time, managing to send Vinyl sprawling onto her back and earning a moment of respite. The grey mare huffed, smoothing her mane back and adjusting her bowtie.
“Honestly, Vinyl,” she began, “would you give me a moment?”
Vinyl sat up, rubbing at her forehead. “Sure. And then can we hug and stuff?”
Octavia let out an exasperated sigh. “I see that you haven’t changed at all.”
Vinyl grinned, lifting her shades and revealing the bright red eyes that Octavia remembered so well. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I-I,” stuttered Octavia. “Well, I meant that—”
“MIss Scratch,” came a voice from the door. Harmonia Philharmonica stood at the doorway. “You haven’t unpacked your room.”
Octavia blanched at the sight of her sister, quickly retreating to a more suitable distance from Vinyl.
“Do I have to do that right now, Harmonia?” groaned Vinyl. “I’m hanging out with Tavi!”
“Professor Philharmonica,” corrected Harmonia with a slight frown. “And yes, you do.”
“Well, can she help?”
“Your room is your responsibility, Miss Scratch, not Miss Philharmonica’s.”
Vinyl pouted, slowly climbing to her hooves. “You used to be cool, Harmonia,” she grumbled.
Harmonia rolled her eyes. “Professor Philharmonica. And go clean your room.”
Vinyl Scratch put her shades back into place, still grumbling as she made her way out of Octavia’s room. Harmonia followed, poking her head out of the doorway. Vinyl turned around midway down the hall, saw that Harmonia was still watching her, stuck out her tongue, then continued on to her room.
“You didn’t seem surprised to see her,” noted Octavia. “Either in the hallway or in here.”
“This is my floor, Octavia, I know every student staying here.”
“It would have been a simple matter to warn me that Vinyl would be a few doors down.”
Harmonia arched an eyebrow. “ ‘Warn you’? I would have thought that you’d enjoy it. A pleasant surprise to have your marefriend so close.”
Octavia turned slightly pink. “She’s not my marefriend, just an old friend. I’m tired of you calling her that, Harmonia.”
“Professor Philharmonica.”
“Whatever.”
“In any case,” continued Harmonia, “as both your teacher and your sister, I hope that Vinyl won’t become a distraction to you. Not to mention that she’s two years younger than you are.”
“Long Play’s a few years younger than you are,” Octavia reminded her.
“Long Play and I are not students.” A slight pause. “And that’s besides the point! What does that have to do with anything?!” Harmonia had matched her sister’s earlier blush.
Octavia smiled. “Forgive me, Harmonia, but I’m keeping Harpo waiting.”
“For the last time, it’s Professor Philharmonica when we’re on campus!”
***
Harpo Parish Nadermane stood outside of the girl’s dormitory, ogling the passing students and trying to make it seem as though he wasn’t. However, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“Harpo,” said Octavia as she came out of the dormitory, “stop ogling the students.”
“I’m not! I would never.”
“You most definitely are.”
“Well, just a little. Is it just me or is everyone in this university absolutely gorgeous?”
“It’s just you.”
Harpo smirked, running a hoof through his mane. “Why Octavia, I never knew that you saw me in that way. I’m flattered.”
Octavia sighed. “I walked right into that one.”
“Don’t feel bad, I’m far too witty for my own good.” Harpo’s eyes trailed after a group of upperclassponies, his neck craning slightly as they passed by. “Wait, what were we talking about?”
“You were about to show me the way to a café you enjoy.”
“Oh, that’s right! This way, if you please.” Harpo began walking, Octavia following after him, but he had hardly taken a few steps before stopping. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for that other mare? Vinyl, was it?”
Octavia made an uneasy face, glancing upwards, towards her floor of the dormitory. “She’s… a bit busy right now. We can go on for now. I’ll show her the café myself later on.”
Harpo shrugged and resumed his walking. He kept up a running commentary as they traveled. Apparently, the café was currently managed by one of the too many friends that Harpo had; an older Conservatory student by the name of Noteworthy. It was relatively well-known among students, but it was a tad out of the way, so it wasn’t always filled to capacity as other places nearer to campus tended to be. Besides that, the café had a small stage and just the right feel to pull in a few aspiring musicians. It was, Harpo assured, a very pleasant eating experience.
Noteworthy met them just outside of the café. “Afternoon, Harpo,” he said with a smile, bumping hooves with the other colt. “How’s Conservatory?”
“Distracting,” replied Harpo. He gestured towards Octavia. “This is Octavia Philharmonica, the friend that I told you about.”
“Oh, Professor Philharmonica’s sister!” Noteworthy bumped hooves with Octavia. “Your sister is a fantastic teacher.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
Noteworthy laughed at that. “You don’t have to, I’m half-certain that she hates me. Still, she’s a very good teacher. Anyway, Notes”— here, Noteworthy gestured back towards the cafè —“isn’t quite open yet, but I’m sure that I could find you two something if you’re hungry.”
“Octavia?” asked Harpo.
“If it isn’t too much trouble.”
Noteworthy smiled. “None at all. Follow me.” He turned around, reaching into a saddlebag and taking out a key. Notworthy unlocked the door, holding it open to admit Harpo and Octavia.
***
Vinyl, meanwhile, had found her way back to Octavia’s room. She sat in a chair by the window, staring out over Canterlot. Octavia had gotten the nice side of the building, the side with a spectacular view of the glittering city. Vinyl was on the other side, where the mountain that Canterlot stood on obscured most of the view. Only a few buildings stood on that side before Canterlot dropped away and there was nothing but sky and the barest hint of the forest far below. A few clouds drifted off in the distance that Vinyl believed could be Cloudsdale, but she wasn’t entirely sure.
Vinyl Scratch let out a sigh, adjusting herself slightly in her seat. “C’mon, Tavi,” she muttered under her breath.
“Ummm, excuse me?” came a refined, Canterlotian voice from somewhere behind Vinyl.
Vinyl started at the voice, her chair pitching backwards dangerously. She turned, a grin forming on her face. Her prepared greeting, however, died on her lips. The mare standing in the doorway was blue, not grey.
The mare blinked in confusion as a disappointed look flashed across Vinyl’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said, “was I disturbing anything?”
Vinyl turned back to the window. “Nah, you’re fine.”
“I see.” The mare looked around the room uneasily, shifting the luggage she had with her before slowly setting it on the ground.
Vinyl kept her eyes fixed on the view.
“Excuse me,” began the mare after a few moments of silence, “are you Octavia Philharmonica?”
“Nope.”
“Oh… This is room 432, isn’t it?”
Vinyl nodded.
The mare knitted her brow in confusion and checked the outside of the door. Sure enough, a bronze number ‘432’ was fixed in place. She was in the right place.
“Do you know where Octavia went?”
Vinyl shook her head. “Out, I guess.”
A slight pause. The mare slowly walked over to one of the beds and took a seat. “I’m Beauty Brass, may I ask your name?”
“Vinyl Scratch.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Scratch.”
“Okay.”
Beauty Brass cast a sideways glance towards the other mare, but didn’t say anything more. The two of them stayed motionless where they sat, Vinyl quite content to be left to her thoughts and Beauty Brass not quite prepared to attempt conversation again.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Beauty Brass found her eyes growing heavy, nodding slightly as she drifted closer and closer to sleep. Her eyes snapped open.
“Do you have the time?” asked Beauty.
Vinyl turned around and looked at Beauty. At least, it seemed as though she were looking at the other mare. It was difficult to tell with her sunglasses on.
“1:20,” said Vinyl.
Beauty Brass shot to her hooves, quickly diving into one of her bags and extracting a notebook, a quill, and a sealed inkpot. “Are you attending the lecture today?” she asked politely, if a bit hurried.
Vinyl shrugged. “There’s a lecture today?”
“The first class of Basic Music Theory. Are you taking it?” From her position, Beauty Brass had a rather clear view of Vinyl’s cutie mark. It was, however, polite to ask.
Vinyl nodded. “I thought classes started tomorrow.”
“They do, officially. This will be an overview of the class, a chance to ask questions.” Beauty glanced around the room and found a clock hanging from the wall just behind her. Five minutes had passed. “It begins at a quarter to two, but it’s a popular class, so it’s best to get there early.”
Vinyl nodded noncommittally.
“Would you care to join me?” asked Beauty.
Vinyl pulled a face, glancing back at the window. Far, far, below her, the students of Canterlot Conservatory swarmed over the campus, small and indistinct. One of them may have been wearing a pink bowtie, but there was no way of telling.
“I understand if you’d rather not,” said Beauty. She shifted her weight from hoof to hoof, anxious to leave.
“Maybe later,” said Vinyl with the slightest hesitation.
“Sure.” Beauty was already heading for the doorway.
“Thank you for offering,” muttered Vinyl. Beauty Brass didn’t hear her.
A few more minutes passed. Vinyl stayed in her seat, watching birds fly across the sky and ponies mill about down below. It was, she decided, a rather enjoyable experience.
***
Harmonia Philharmonica stood at her desk. The seats before her were filled near to capacity, each one of the students—her students—armed with quill, notebook, and textbook and every eye fixed upon her. Harmonia licked her lips, trying to work some moisture back into her mouth before beginning.
“Starswirl the Bearded held the belief that a true practitioner of magic must practice every aspect of that craft. Should a magician fail to do so, he would be known as a pyromancer, or an illusionist; simply an expert in whichever one of the multitude subdivisions of magic that he had chosen to learn. He would not, however, be a pure magician.”
Harmonia paused slightly, partly for dramatic effect, partly to stop the shaking that had begun in her left front leg. This presentation never got easier. “I have never studied magic beyond a rudimentary education, but Starswirl the Bearded’s sentiment is not limited to that particular path of study. Our Conservatory in particular has taken Starswirl’s ideas to heart. Many of you have come here to learn how to compose a piece. You came to this school because of its music program and are genuinely interested in this class.” Harmonia felt herself stand a little more firmly. “Some of you did not. Some of you have no interest in the finer aspects of musical composition, preferring instead to wait for the finished product.
“If this is your attitude, so be it, but know that I expect nothing less than your best. If you can not give it, feel free to exchange my class for something more to your liking. But understand that if you came to the Conservatory to be an artist, a true artist, then you must not limit yourself to a single area of study.”
She stopped once again, surveying her class. A blue mare with a light brown mane sat in the very front row, scribbling furiously into her notebook. Harmonia felt quite sure that she saw a two-tone blue mane in the very back of the room. That was strange, Vinyl wasn’t supposed to be there until the next day.
Harmonia nodded, pushing the thought from her mind. “With that out of the way, allow me to introduce myself. I am Harmonia Philharmonica, and you may refer to me as Professor Philharmonica or Professor if my name proves too much of a mouthful. Welcome to Basic Music Theory.” She turned around, making her way towards the chalkboard.
Vinyl Scratch had a spinny chair. This was, in and of itself, not a very remarkable achievement; most other students at the Canterlot Conservatory had spinny chairs if only for the purpose of wheeling from workplace to minifridge. However, Vinyl had a very profound relationship with her spinny chair. It was very comfortable, rolled very smoothly, and was one of the few pieces of furniture that she had not fallen from. That, added to the fact that it had been a gift from Long Play, made it a very special spinny chair.
Vinyl sat in that chair, spinning in a slow circle as night fell over Canterlot. She had sat through Harmonia’s lecture, far more concerned with the crowd of students packed into the hall than the mare who stood at the front of it all. Vinyl had meticulously searched through each row for nearly all of the two and a half hours that Harmonia spoke, but to no avail. Octavia hadn’t been there. The other pony, the purple one with the long name, wasn’t there either; a fact which slightly bothered Vinyl.
There was nothing she could do about it, however, and Vinyl had quietly slipped out of the lecture hall about half an hour before Harmonia had finished her lecture. Vinyl had been in her room since then, sitting in her spinny chair and glancing down the hallway anytime she heard hoofsteps approaching.
Not one of those hooves had belonged to Octavia.
“This is kinda creepy,” Vinyl said to herself. “What am I, a dog?”
A set of hooves sounded in the hallway. With hardly a thought, Vinyl pushed against the ground, her wheely chair crossing the room and stopping at the doorway. However, the mare in the hallway was not grey but a light blue.
“There you are!” said Beauty Brass. “I wasn’t sure if you made it back to the dormitory.”
Vinyl grimaced slightly in disappointment. “I made it,” she said curtly.
“Good.” Beauty tried for a smile.
Vinyl did not return the smile.
An awkward silence fell between the two. Beauty Brass scratched at the back of her mane. Vinyl remained impassive, searching for any excuse to wheel back into her room proper.
“Has my roommate come in?” asked Beauty. “Oc… Octave, was it?”
“Octavia,” muttered Vinyl.
“I apologize; I have a terrible memory for names. Octavia, then. Have you seen her?”
Vinyl shook her head.
“Do you think she’ll be back soon?”
Vinyl shrugged.
“I see…” Beauty frowned slightly, but covered that frown just as quickly. “Well, if you see her before I do, please warn her that a strange mare is going to be in her room.”
“Okay.”
Beauty blinked. “That was meant to be a joke,” she muttered to herself. Then, a bit louder: “I’ll be off now.”
“Okay.”
With that and a few awkward nods, Beauty Brass stepped out of the room, breathing the lightest sigh of relief as she did so.
Vinyl rolled back to the center of her room, shutting the door with a flick of her magic. The room had grown darker in those few moments that she’d spoken to Beauty. Peeking through the window, Vinyl was just able to make out the moon and the first few stars.
Vinyl Scratch let out a groan, shoving herself into a slow spin.
“Damn it, Tavi.”
***
Octavia turned the corner and past the other dorm rooms. Her time with Harpo and Noteworthy had gone on for far longer than expected. After eating, they had said goodbye to Noteworthy and Octavia had had every intention to return to her dorm. Harpo, however, had insisted on walking around and getting acquainted with the area.
Canterlot Conservatory, as it turned out, had a very large campus.
Now, trudging through the hallway of the top floor of the girls’ dormitory, Octavia Philharmonica wanted nothing more than to rest her tired hooves and head to sleep.
Yet, Octavia didn’t make a beeline for her room. She paused, just for a moment, in front of a door marked ‘V. Scratch’.
I wonder if she’s in, Octavia thought to herself. It’s been what, five years? It couldn’t hurt to catch up. She held up a hoof, poised it to knock.
Two sets of hooves walked down the hallway, making Octavia jump. The two mares, neither of which Octavia recognized, gave her curious looks as they passed, but opted not to say anything.
Octavia let out a sigh, throwing another glance at Vinyl’s room. Then she walked on, unlocking and entering her own dorm room.
The room looked much the same way that Octavia had left it; everything on what she’d chosen as ‘her side’ neatly packed away and well-kept. However, the other side of the room, left bare when she’d left with Harpo, had since come to life. Whereas Octavia’s side was rather sparsely decorated and kept to a grey theme, the other side was brimming with pastel colors. Admittedly, it was not quite as bad as it could have been, but it was enough to nearly cut the room in half.
Another mare, light blue with a brown mane, stood by the room’s window. She turned as Octavia entered.
“Octavia Philharmonica?” asked Beauty Brass.
Octavia nodded, taking a few steps forward. “Indeed. I take it that you’re Beauty Brass?”
Beauty smiled, quickly trotting forward and bumping hoofs with Octavia. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I would have been here earlier, but a friend was taking me on a tour of campus.”
“Oh, that’s no problem, it gave me time to settle into the room.” Beauty smiled, gesturing back to the window. “We have quite the view.”
Octavia nodded, walking over to her bed and taking a seat. “I spent most of the morning at that window.”
“It’s still nice at night.”
“I’m sure that it—” Octavia let out a yawn “—Excuse me. I’m sure that it is.”
“I’m sorry, I must be keeping you up.”
Octavia smiled wanly. “I suppose that I am a bit tired.”
“Don’t feel as though you have to stay awake on my account. I’m getting a bit tired as well.”
Octavia yawned once more, a dainty yawn that she covered with a hoof. “Then I’ll be going to sleep.”
Beauty nodded. “It was nice meeting you, Octavia.”
“Likewise.” Octavia undid her bowtie, setting it on a nearby desk.
“Oh, just one more thing, if you’re not too tired,” said Beauty.
Octavia glanced up at her roommate.
“There was a mare by the name Vinyl Scratch looking for you today. Have you seen her since then?”
A pang of guilt went through Octavia, making her wince slightly. If Beauty noticed it, however, she didn’t show it.
“I haven’t,” admitted Octavia. “I’ll be sure to find her tomorrow.”
Beauty smiled. “Good night, Octavia.”
“Good night, Beauty.”
Octavia crawled under her bed covers, wrapping them securely around her. It was autumn and the window was open, but Canterlot nights were gentle things. It was warm in the dorm room, and even warmer under the covers. Uncomfortably warm, even. It took some time before Octavia was able to find a comfortable condition; her head placed against the cool wall and the thickest bed cover laying half off of her.
Even after she’d found that semi-comfortable position, however, Octavia could not fall asleep. She lay awake as the moon continued on its course and was still awake after Beauty Brass had crawled into her own bed and fallen asleep.
“Damn it, Vinyl.”
***
“Octavia,” said a soft, Canterlotian voice. “Octavia, are you awake?”
“Harmonia?” asked the groggy cellist, rolling over and away from the wall. The window was still open, filling the room with a flood of light. Octavia had to hold a hoof over her eyes.
“No, it’s Beauty Brass.”
It took a few moments for the name to register. New roommate. Right.
“What’s happening, Beauty?” asked Octavia, her bleary eyes turning towards the other mare.
Beauty Brass seemed wide-awake and ready for the day. Her mane was perfectly combed, her saddlebags sat neatly packed on her bed, and there was not a hint of sleep in her eyes. Essentially, Beauty looked the exact opposite of how Octavia felt.
“Well,” began Beauty, suddenly bashful, “I’m sorry for waking you, but th-there’s about 45 minutes left until class begins. I wasn’t sure if you would wake up on time.”
Octavia sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What class?”
“Basic Music Theory.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I’m not taking that class.”
Beauty furrowed her brow in confusion. “Aren’t you here to study music?”
“Yes, but I tested out of Harmo—Professor Philharmonica’s class. I’m taking the Intermediate class.”
“Oh. Oh!” Beauty covered her mouth with a hoof. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed… I’m sorry.”
Octavia waved a dismissive hoof. “It’s fine. I have to be up in—” Octavia checked her clock “—an hour and a half anyway. Might as well do it now.” The slightest sigh colored Octavia’s words.
“I really am sorry!”
“It’s fine, Beauty.”
Beauty’s hoof moved upwards, hiding her eyes. “I feel like an idiot.”
“It was an honest mistake,” said Octavia with a half-smile. “And I certainly appreciate the sentiment behind it.”
The hoof came down, and Beauty smiled. “That’s kind of you, Octavia.”
Octavia returned the smile. “Though I might go to sleep again now that I have the time.”
“Of course. I was just about to leave, so you’ll be able to sleep in peace.” Beauty trotted over to her bed, tossing the saddlebags onto her back.
“Rather early isn’t it?” asked Octavia. “It can’t be more than a 10 minute walk to the lecture hall.”
“I want to be early,” responded Beauty brightly. “To make sure that I get a seat in the first row.”
***
True to her word, Beauty Brass had found a seat in the front and center of the hall, nearly directly in front of the podium.
‘Nearly’ was, however, the key word in that sentence.
The seat directly in front of Professor Philharmonica’s podium was already taken. A light brown stallion with an off-white mane and a serious expression had already been in Beauty’s intended seat as she walked in. He had been writing something in his notebook at first, but he broke off from his work and glanced up when Beauty walked in.
“Good morning,” said the stallion. Beauty heard the slightest Prench accent in his voice.
“Good morning,” replied Beauty.
The stallion had gone back to his work immediately after that. Beauty had taken a seat to his left, allowing for one empty space between them. Then, for a time, the only sound in the entire lecture hall was the scratching of the stallion’s quill against his notebook.
The rest of the students began filing in after ten minutes or so, most of them heading towards the middle of the seats and bunching up in their respective groups. A few braver souls sat in the front row.
Soon enough, a pleasant, if slightly nervous, chatter filled the lecture hall, much like yesterday’s pre-lesson, but magnified by the sheer number of students. There were, perhaps, double the amount of ponies on that day than had attended yesterday’s class. Beauty Brass found the mumble nearly deafening. The stallion, however, simply continued his work.
Harmonia Philharmonica made her entrance five minutes before class was set to begin. The classroom mutter died down. Beauty heard a sigh come from the stallion to her right. He had put down his quill.
Harmonia walked to the podium, taking her place. She took a few moments to arrange her notes, then took out a stack of papers.
“Frederic,” said Harmonia, holding the stack of papers out to the brown stallion in the front row, “would you mind holding these?”
‘Frederic’ took the sheets with a nod.
“Thank you.” Harmonia turned towards the gathered students. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” responded the students.
“If you didn’t attend yesterday’s lecture, I’ll ask you to come up here and take the syllabus from Frederic and—” Harmonia broke off, glancing around the lecture hall. She let out a sigh, stalking through the entrance and out into the hallway. She returned a few moments later, this time accompanied by Vinyl Scratch.
“I’m sorry for the interruption,” continued Harmonia. “Come up to the front and take a syllabus from Frederic or Vinyl.”
What? thought Beauty Brass.
“These two will be working as my assistants for this semester, if not for the entire year. Feel free to ask them any questions you may have about the course work.”
What? thought Beauty Brass.
“Vinyl, take half of the packets and stand on the right side. Frederic, do the same on the left.”
What?!
There was a sudden rush of movement as half of the students climbed to their hooves. Beauty got up with them, quickly trotting over to Vinyl, blowing past a short line of students that had already formed in front of Vinyl Scratch.
“Vinyl!” greeted Beauty.
Vinyl glanced at the other mare, her eyes barely visible beneath her purple shades. “You have to wait in line.”
“What? Oh, no, I already have a syllabus.”
“Okay.” Vinyl turned away, her magic methodically distributing packets of paper. The line was moving at a rather brisk pace.
Beauty had almost grown used to Vinyl’s curt responses. “Are you actually taking this class, then? Or just acting as an assistant?”
“Just an assistant.”
“That’s incredible. You get paid for it, don’t you?”
“Yeah. It’s a job, I guess.”
“A rather nice one to have, at that.” Beauty smiled. “You’re very lucky.”
Vinyl bristled at that, the slightest scowl crossing her face. However, the moment passed quickly. “Yeah.”
Harmonia stamped lightly on the floor, the sound of her hoof against the tile somehow carrying through the entire room. “At this point, if you haven’t picked up a syllabus yet, please do so after class. If you know anypony who decided to miss both yesterday and today, please tell them that my office hours run from three to five and they should come see me then.”
Another rush of movement as the few students who hadn’t received their packet returned to their seats. Beauty joined them, retaking her seat in the front row. Frederic had abandoned his own seat in favor of one in the top right corner of the classroom. Vinyl took a seat on the opposite side.
Harmonia surveyed her class for a moment, her face a perfect mask of impassivity. “We’re going to begin at the very beginning. If you already know what we’re going to cover, then I will kindly ask you to relearn it.” She turned around, approaching the blackboard behind her and picking up a piece of chalk. Harmonia drew five horizontal lines on the board, one on top of the other and each the same length. “This is a staff. It will tell you everything you need to know about a musical composition.”
***
Canterlot Station in the morning was always a bit of a toss-up. On some days, it was absolutely packed with ponies, each one of them rushing desperately to their stations with breakfast sandwiches or cups of coffee hanging from their mouths. More than one suit had been ruined by a poorly timed step, and there were too many close calls to count.
This morning was one of those mornings, ponies of all shapes and sizes walking to and fro in a chaotic jumble. Trains zoomed back and forth from their platforms, adding to the general rush and movement that characterized Canterlot Station.
There was, however, a certain disturbance in the movement. There was one pony who, instead of rushing around with a straight expression, strolled through the station with a grin on his face, his head bobbing to music only he could hear.
The unicorn worked his way through the crowd, heading towards the exit of Canterlot Station. His grin widened with every step until, finally, he was out in Canterlot proper.
He stood outside, simply taking in the city. The mountainside, the soaring building and, above it all, Canterlot Castle. How long had it been?
A breeze ran through the street, blowing a strand of his two-tone red mane out of place. Long Play brushed the strand back into place, letting out something between a sigh and a cheer.
Octavia was not in the best of moods. The dorm room was too warm, the bed was stiff, the blankets stifled her, and countless sets of hooves careened down the hallway, grating on Octavia’s ears. Worst of all, Octavia knew that she could have slept through all of it had Beauty Brass not decided to be a good roommate. Waking Octavia had been a very nice gesture and, under any other circumstances, would have been very much appreciated.
Kind intentions, however, did not make up for stealing sleep.
Octavia groaned, kicking off her covers and climbing out of bed. She stalked across the room, catching the briefest glimpse of her scowling face and dishevelled mane in the window before shoving it open. The cool, autumn air rushed in, a marked difference from the warmth of last night. Octavia stood at the window for a time, squinting slightly in the sunlight, the scowl on her face slowly but surely slipping away as she looked out over the city.
She stayed that way for a time, letting the room cool down to a more comfortable temperature. Canterlot was a wonderful city and Octavia cared for it dearly, but it was a tad warmer than she would have liked. In that regard, though Octavia was loathe to admit it, Manehattan was more suited to her tastes.
And what was Manehattan without Vinyl and her family?
Vinyl.
The thought sent a twinge through Octavia.
Vinyl Scratch was a major part of Octavia’s childhood, if not a constant one. Separated as they were, conversation between the two had been limited to letters and the few times a year that the Philharmonicas made the trek to see Gramma Phone. Vinyl was, for all intents and purposes, a part of Manehattan, like a building or the little park by Gramma Phone’s old home. When Gramma Phone had passed away, there’d been no reason to visit Manehattan again. No more Manehattan meant no more Vinyl.
And now, five years later, that very same Vinyl was in Canterlot.
Octavia sneezed, the sudden action derailing her train of thought. She sniffled slightly, closing and locking the window and returning to her bed. The noise in the hallway had died down almost entirely, only the occasional set of hurrying hooves breaking the silence. Octavia sat in that silence for a time, absentmindedly smoothing whatever wrinkles she could find on her bed covers.
“I’m glad she’s here.” Octavia spoke quietly, as if testing the words. She frowned slightly.
“I’m happy to see her again.” That didn’t feel right either.
Octavia slumped onto her bed, displacing the covers she had meticulously corrected. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”
***
The Conservatory hallways were buzzing with activity. Students weaved past each other, textbooks weighing down saddlebags or floating just above the crowd in a magical sheath. The buzz of dozens of conversations filled the hall.
Harpo yawned violently, stumbling slightly and nearly crashing into two other ponies. He turned around, throwing an apologetic glance at the two students he almost bowled over. Neither of them returned the gesture; Harpo turned around with a pouting huff.
“No, pardon me,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to apologize or anything.” Harpo turned to the grey mare beside him. “I’m sorry, Octavia, what was I saying?”
Octavia gave a start, a clear confusion in her eyes when she turned towards Harpo. “Pardon?”
“You weren’t listening.”
“Listening to what?”
“Listening to me! Which is, quite frankly, a terrible thing not to listen to.”
“I hadn’t realized you were speaking.”
Harpo made a face. “You know, if I hadn’t known you for so long, that would have hurt.” Then, in a slightly lowered voice: “Still smarts a bit.”
“Good thing you know me, then.”
“Good for you, maybe,” said Harpo with a snort. “All that it’s brought me is—” He glanced towards Octavia. Her eyes were staring forward, slightly glazed over and not so much as acknowledging the many other students in the hallway.
Harpo sighed, allowing the statement to die on his tongue. As much as Harpo enjoyed the sound of his own voice, any words spoken to Octavia Philharmonica would be lost in the incomprehensible labyrinth of the mare’s mind.
And so, the pair walked on in silence, Harpo occasionally nudging Octavia out of the way of a particularly large or angry-looking student, slowly herding her towards the lecture hall.
“Harpo,” began Octavia suddenly, “what do you think of Vinyl?”
“Vinyl? The white mare from yesterday?”
“Yes.”
Harpo shrugged. “I don’t think anything of her.
"Ah.” A pause. “Not even a little?”
“I spoke with her for all of two seconds, Octavia. She seemed nice enough, but that’s about the extent of what I can say.”
“I see…”
They walked on for a bit longer.
“Why do you ask?” asked Harpo.
Octavia knit her brow. “I’m not entirely sure. I think it’s—”
“TAAAAAAAAAVI!” Vinyl rocketed through the densely packed hallway, loosing her battlecry and drawing Octavia into a tight hug. “Tavi! I thought I lost you! I couldn’t find you anywhere yesterday and I was terrified, Tavi, terrified!”
Octavia struggled with the other mare, vainly attempting to peel away her hooves, growing steadily redder as passing students began to stare. “I’m fine, Vinyl!” Octavia huffed. “I was walking around campus!”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Vinyl.
"Completely sure!"
“Nothing I can kiss to make it feel better?”
“Wha—No!” Octavia’s blush deepened and she redoubled her efforts. Vinyl held firm.
“Can I kiss you just because I want to?”
“I swear to Celestia, let me go, Vinyl!”
Harpo chuckled, drawing both mares’ attention. “I recant my previous statement, Octavia. I like her.”
Mercifully, Vinyl released her hold on Octavia. In place of the hug, Vinyl wrapped her tail around the other mare’s, holding it tight as she turned towards Harpo. “Hey, I remember you! You were with Tavi yesterday, right? Something something Fancyname.”
Harpo smiled wryly. “Harpo Parish Nadermane.”
“Yeah, that’s it!” Vinyl smiled slightly, then turned back towards Octavia. “Anyway, Tavi! I didn’t know that you were taking the Intermediate class too!”
Octavia knit her brow. “‘Too’? Vinyl, are you taking this class?”
“Yeah!” said Vinyl with an excited nod. “I accidentally tested out of the first class, so I convinced the school to take me on as an assistant for the Basic class, but then you weren’t there, so I was kinda freaking out.”
“I-I thought that only older students could be assistants.”
“Well, yeah, but I talked them into doing it. Harmonia helped a lot too.” Vinyl paused slightly, thinking. “I should thank her for that. I’ll get her an apple or something; professors like apples, right?”
Octavia didn’t respond, incapable of much more than a blank stare.
Harpo let out a low whistle. “That’s impressive. Also, slightly terrifying.”
Vinyl shrugged. “You alright, Tavi?”
A slight pause. “What? Yes, quite. Fine. Perfectly fine.” Octavia fiddled with her bowtie. “No problems at all.”
“You sure?” Vinyl stepped forward, lifting her shades and inspecting Octavia’s face. “It’d suck if you got sick or something. I mean, it’d suck for you, cuz I's be able to, like, nurse you back to health or something and that'd be kinda awesome."
“No, Vinyl, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you’re not getting just a tiny bi—”
The sound of a throat clearing broke the mares’ conversation. Octavia jumped back as well as she could with Vinyl still holding her tail, glancing up at the intruder.
An older unicorn stood a few feet away. He wore a black bowtie and a green plaid jacket over his dark grey fur. His face remained impassive as he surveyed Harpo, Vinyl, and Octavia.
“I’d prefer,” said the stallion slowly, “that nopony loitered outside my classroom.”
Octavia and Harpo muttered their apologies, taking a few steps away from the doorway.
"'Your' classroom?" asked Vinyl, keeping her ground.
The professor arched an eyebrow. "Indeed. My classroom. "
"Then you're Professor Arpeggio!" Vinyl grinned, turning to Octavia. "He's our teacher, Tavi!"
"I-I..." stuttered Octavia eloquently.
Professor Arpeggio knit his brow. "Octavia and Vinyl." He turned towards Harpo. "Then you must be Harpo. The three first years in my class."
Vinyl nodded eagerly. The other two nodded hesitantly.
Arpeggio stood silently for a moment, his eyes darting between the trio, lingering on Vinyl perhaps a tad longer than the other two. His scowl deepened. "I see," the professor said slowly.
Vinyl leaned forward slightly, looking closely at both Harpo and Octavia. "What do you see?"
"Three students about to be late for class." With that, Professor Arpeggio swept past his students and into the lecture hall.
Vinyl watched him go, letting out a little laugh once he was out of earshot. "What's up his ass?"
"Vinyl!" scolded Octavia. "In what possible universe was that a good idea?!"
"Was what a good idea?"
"Talking back to Professor Arpeggio!"
"That wasn't talking back," said Vinyl defensively, "that was just talking! What, am I not allowed to ask my professors any questions?"
"Actually, " chimed in Harpo, "that's one of Arpeggio's rules. No questions."
"Really?" asked Octavia.
"No. I just wanted to add to the conversation."
"Thank you for that, Harpo."
Arpeggio's voice floated in from the classroom. "If the three stragglers would care to join us, we can begin the lecture."
***
Long Play wandered through Canterlot Conservatory, head and eyes swerving from place to place, taking in the buildings and gardens that made up the school. The campus was undeniably beautiful, full of soaring spires and bright colors and bearing the happy buzz that fills most universities at the beginning of the school year.
It was also quite possibly the only part of the Conservatory that Long Play actually liked.
This is not to say that Long Play hated everything else about the Conservatory. Hate did not come easily to the DJ and as the thick skin required of all ponies in his profession grew into place, Long Play's estrangement from hatred only grew. No, he did not hate Canterlot Conservatory, but he certainly didn't like it.
Long Play cut off his musings, a light grey figure with a bobbed mane catching his eye. A sly smile crept across his face and he hurried forward, cutting across the grass and falling into step behind Harmonia.
"Of course," Harmonia muttered to herself. "Any discussion of key signatures has to include the circle of fifths. But what's the best way to teach that?" She let out a sigh. "I wish the class were smaller."
Long Play crept closer, holding his breath to keep from laughing. He leaned in, stopping a few short inches from Harmonia's ear.
"What're you talking about?" he asked in a whisper.
Harmonia jumped, her back leg lashing out in reflex. The kick connected, driving mercilessly into LP's ribcage. Long Play let out a shout of pain, stumbling backwards and clutching at his side.
"Holy shit, Harmonia," Long Play said through gritted teeth. "I think you broke something."
"Long Play! What are you doing here?"
"Is that my name? It's hard to remember when half of me's been crushed."
Harmonia frowned slightly. "Oh come now, this is hardly the first time I've kicked you."
"Well, maybe I've gotten older!"
"Maybe you've gotten weaker."
Long Play scowled, taking his hoof away from his bruised side and trying to mask the resulting wince. "I have not. Long Play strong! Long Play masculine! Long Play... uh..."
"Long Play limited in vocabulary."
LP glared at Harmonia as best he could. The entire 'angry' effect lasted about two seconds before a smile cracked is surface. Then the facade brow entirely and Long Play darted forward, wrapping Harmonia in a hug.
"I really missed you," Long Play said quietly.
Harmonia smiled, her eyes closing by the slightest bit. "I missed you too."
A pause.
"My ribs hurt."
Harmonia rolled her eyes, lightly pushing against Long Play and out of the hug. Out of the corner of her eye, Harmonia noticed a few staring students. She cleared her throat. "Now, did you just come here to chat or do you finally have an answer for me?"
Long Play groaned. "If I ask nicely, will you not talk about that?"
"It's worth a shot."
"Please don't ask me about that."
"Walk with me, Long Play." Harmonia set off, not even turning to make sure that LP was actually following.
"Alright," said Long Play, following the mare, "give me the pitch."
"It's a fantastic opportunity."
"Uh-huh."
"It may be a bit stressful at times, but teaching is a highly rewarding career."
"How nice."
The two exited the courtyard, crossing into a building.
"It is, indeed, very nice," replied Harmonia. "The Conservatory is a wonderful place to work and, quite frankly--"
"It took a lot of effort to set up an interview for me," Long Play finished. "I know, and I really appreciate it, but teaching's not really my thing."
They stopped outside of a door. The name 'Prof. Harmonia Philharmonica' was stenciled onto it in large, black letters.
"I want to show you something," said Harmonia, leading the way inside.
"I read a story that started just like this," muttered Long Play.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!"
Harmonia's office was rather sparsely decorated. A single diploma, her certificate of graduation from Canterlot Conservatory, hung on the wall behind her. A bookshelf stood on either side of the diploma, filled with books whose titles Long Play did not bother to read.
Harmonia walked past all these, making a beeline for a set of filing cabinets. Her hoof darted in, withdrawing a thin manila folder. She extended the folder to Long Play.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Test results. Well, two of them; the rest are confidential."
Long Play's magic flared as he brought the folder closer. Two sets of papers lay within, identical in structure.
"Octavia Philharmonica," Long Play read aloud, "and Vinyl Scratch."
Harmonia nodded. "They both tested out of my class and into Professor Arpeggio's."
"Good for them."
"They had the two highest scores of all students who took this exam."
"How many took this exam?"
"Seventy three," answered Harmonia. "About twenty of those passed the test itself. Arpeggio only allowed the top three into his class."
"Kinda harsh."
"It's a difficult class. Most students don't take it until second or third year."
Long Play floated the folder back to Harmonia. "That's fantastic. I'm glad that Vinyl's doing well; I'll buy her a cupcake when I see her. Students like cupcakes, right?"
Harmonia wasn't finished yet. "Octavia has been studying music for years. She's picked my brain for information about the exam and done everything she could to ensure that she did well. Vinyl has had two years fewer to study and, as far as I know, the only musical resource she had was you. And yet there is a two question difference between Vinyl and Octavia."
"Vinyl's smart."
"And you obviously did a fantastic job in helping her."
"I just bought her the books and explained whatever she didn't understand."
"How much did you actually explain?"
"Nearly nothing towards the end."
"And what about towards the beginning?"
Long Play didn't respond.
"Long Play," began Harmonia softly, "you taught the mare who earned the highest score on one of the most difficult exams the Conservatory has to offer. Vinyl beat out Octavia, for Luna's sake! You'd be an amazing professor!"
"I don't have a degree."
"Exceptions can be made."
Long Play frowned. "But I like being a DJ."
"Just consider it, Long Play. Please?"
A pause. "Alright. Maybe. I'll think about it."
Harmonia smiled. "Thank you, Long Play."
"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hoof. "You're lucky I like you."
Professor Arpeggio stood in front of his class, a steaming mug floating in the air beside him and a slight frown on his lips. His eyes roamed over the students, silently watching them and, it seemed to some students, judging what he saw.
It was unnerving to say the least and the lively chatter that had filled the room just a few moments before slowly died away.
“Hey, Tavi,” whispered Vinyl, who had taken the seat directly to Octavia’s left.
Octavia ignored her, opting instead to dig through her saddlebag.
“Taaaavi.”
Pencil, notepad. Seat is slightly uncomfortable, but that’s fi—
“Taaaaaaaaavi.”
I wonder if I should have brought more pencils. Or paper. Is one notepad eno—
“Tavi, are you ignoring me?”
Harpo, seated on the other side of Octavia, snickered lightly.
Octavia closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. I was certainly trying. “Class is starting, Vinyl.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I need to talk to you right now.”
“What is it?”
“Can I borrow a pencil? You’ve got like five of them.”
Octavia mentally rolled her eyes, but held out one of the pencils. Vinyl took the pencil, smiling broadly.
“Thanks, Tavi.”
Octavia nodded, taking up her own pencil. She looked towards the front of the class, briefly locking eyes with a decidedly unamused Professor Arpeggio. Octavia looked away, embarrassment quickly flooding into her cheeks.
A few beats of silence. Arpeggio took a sip of whatever drink sat in his mug.
“Good afternoon,” Professor Arpeggio greeted. He did not wait for a response before continuing. “You are in this class because you bear some rudimentary knowledge of music and wish to further that knowledge. I am here because my office is nearby and the coffee is complimentary.” He took another sip of his drink.
The students shared nervous glances. A few of them even dared a chuckle.
Arpeggio remained entirely impassive, putting down the mug and taking up a piece of chalk in its place. The chalk wrote out a few words on the chalkboard as the professor spoke. “We will begin with a brief reminder of what you should have learned in your previous class. Then we will move on to the actual course material.”
“Tavi,” whispered Vinyl.
Octavia groaned inwardly. “What is it, Vinyl?”
“Can I borrow some paper?”
Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me. Octavia flipped through her notepad, tearing away a few sheets of paper and passing them to Vinyl.
“Thank, Tavi.”
“—Which, of course, brings us to time signatures which, you will remember, have two components to them. A top number which determines the number of beats per measure and a bottom number which tells which note counts as a singular beat. The time signature has the added effect of—”
“Tavi,” whispered Vinyl.
Octavia threw a glare to her left. “What is it now, Vinyl?”
“You look really pretty today.” A pause. “I mean, not that you don’t look really pretty everyday, because you do, but… you know. Pretty.” Vinyl grinned sheepishly.
“She has a way with words, doesn’t she?” whispered Harpo.
Octavia reddened slightly, turning back to her notes. “Shut up,” she muttered.
“Octavia doesn’t want you to shut up, Vinyl. I think she liked the compliment.”
Vinyl grinned brightly at this revelation.
“—And if a certain trio of first years could cease their whispering, I could actually continue the lesson.”
Harpo, Octavia, and Vinyl snapped to attention, their faces reaching varying shades of red as the rest of the room fell deathly quiet.
Arpeggio drank from his mug, gaze pointedly fixed on the trio. “Now, by all accounts, the whisperings of three students amid a class of some hundred-odd scholars would not be much of a bother to most professors. I am not most professors; I have exceedingly keen ears and an even keener pride, both of which are easily bruised. Now, with your permission, first-years?”
Neither Octavia nor Harpo nor Vinyl offered a response. Professor Arpeggio, unperturbed by this, turned back to his chalkboard.
***
“He’s kind of an asshole, isn’t he?” Vinyl shifted her weight, moving her saddlebags to a more comfortable position.
“Define ‘kind of’,” snarked Harpo.
Octavia scowled slightly. “I think Professor Arpeggio had every right to respond as he did. I would have done much the same.”
“Really?” asked Vinyl.
“Of course.”
Vinyl thought for a moment. “I don’t think you would, Tavi. You’re too nice.”
Harpo snorted.
Octavia threw a pointed glare at the stallion. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
Harpo waved a dismissive hoof. “It’s nothing. In any case, I’ve got a class to get to.” He smiled, stepping away from the mares. “Vinyl, it was very nice to meet you. And I’ll see you later, Tavi.”
“Just leave already,” replied Octavia testily.
Harpo grinned, chuckling as he walked down the hallway.
“What was that about?” asked Vinyl.
Octavia let out a huff, scowling towards the stallion’s retreating figure. “Harpo enjoys getting under my skin.”
“It looks like he’s pretty good at it.”
“He’s had a lot of practice.” Octavia turned away.
The two walked in silence for a time, maneuvering among the crowd of students and the tourist groups that frequented Canterlot Conservatory.
“How much practice?” asked Vinyl suddenly.
“Pardon?”
“How long have you known Harpo?”
Octavia thought for a moment. “A few years, now. I met him in my first year of secondary school.”
“So you’ve been friends for, like, four years?”
A slight note of hesitation. “Yes. Yes, four years.”
Vinyl knit her brow slightly, chewing her inner lip thoughtfully. “Were you two ever… together?”
Octavia blinked. “Together?”
“Yeah. Like... wink wink nudge nudge?”
A pause. Octavia raised a questioning brow.
“What? NO!” Octavia grimaced. “Dear Celestia, no. Certainly not with Harpo, of all ponies.”
“I mean, it doesn’t really matter!” Vinyl added quickly. “But… have you?”
“Vinyl Scratch, that is a rather personal question and I don’t want to answer it.”
“Tavi, we’ve known each other since we were kids!”
“It is still a personal question and I still don’t want to answer!” Octavia felt the heat of anger rising in her chest. “How would you feel if I suddenly asked you about your love life?”
A pause. Vinyl gazed expectantly at Octavia.
“What?” asked Octavia.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me something about it?”
Octavia put a hoof to her forehead. “Celestia’s mane,” she cursed. “Of course I’m not going to ask you that!”
“Do you want to hear about it anyway?”
“No, Vinyl, I don’t. I couldn’t care less about it.” The words were out before Octavia could stop them.
Vinyl’s steps faltered slightly, her mouth curling downwards. Her purple shades covered her eyes. “Oh. Okay.”
Octavia felt a pressure in her chest. “I didn’t mean that, Vinyl. That was very rude of me.”
Vinyl waved a dismissive hoof. “Nah, that’s alright. It’s alright.”
There was silence for a time. Octavia and Vinyl walked on, crossing into another building. They paused at a intersecting hallway path.
“My class is this way,” said Vinyl, gesturing down a hallway. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yes. I’ll, uh, see you later, Vinyl.”
Octavia turned awkwardly, striding down one hall as Vinyl took the other.
Shit, she thought.
***
Long Play sat in his home, thoughtfully chewing on an apple. His record player, a venerable, well-worn machine, sat in a corner, filling the room with a quiet, almost mournful tune. The song was rhythmic and played on the lowest possible volume, providing an unobtrusive background for Long Play’s thoughts.
There were two options before him. Yes or No.
If he said yes, then Harmonia would begin pulling her strings, organize everypony she needed, and Long Play would be seated before a panel of Conservatory administrators.
And then what?
They would ask questions, and keep asking questions until they’d formed their own picture of Long Play. And Long Play would be a teacher. A professor, even. A professor who’d barely scraped his way through high school and never even bothered sending off an application to an institute of higher learning. A professor only a handful of years older than his students who’d pieced together everything he knew from a few second-hand textbooks. A professor at Canterlot Conservatory, the oldest and most well-respected Conservatory in all of Equestria, rivalled only by the best schools in the Griffon Kingdom. And the Griffon Kingdom had invented more than half of the instruments in the entire world! Long Play was supposed to teach there?!
Harmonia was insane.
Second option, then.
If he said no, nothing would happen. Everything would stay exactly the same.
Long Play took a bit from his apple.
And then what?
Well, Long Play would fade away. He still had a year or two left, and then… poof. Out of the public conscious. Irrelevant. He’d seen it in his last tour; the crowd was thinner, if no less energetic than before. And they’d heard it all before. Long Play had worked for over a decade, churning out track after track at a regular pace, working his creative drive to the utmost, but he was getting tired. Every song was more difficult to complete than the one before it, and Long Play had to dig a little deeper each time to find the flash of inspiration that used to come so easily.
What happened when the inspiration disappeared entirely?
On the other hoof, what if the inspiration never disappeared? Teaching is a very busy profession; it’d be nearly impossible for him to produce the way he was if he were teaching at the Conservatory!
Wouldn’t it?
Long Play sighed, biting into what little remained of his apple. “I’m just going to talk myself into circles. One last question, then I have to put it to rest for a while.”
Octavia was in a black mood. She had spent the rest of her classes struggling to keep her mind off of Vinyl. She had also failed miserably at that task, sitting in class with a blank look in her eyes and her quill rhythmically dripping ink onto her notebook, desk, and self. Octavia found herself turning around any time she saw a white pony or a blue mane, only to be disappointed. Vinyl Scratch had disappeared for the day.
And so, Octavia had made the trek to her dormitory, promptly locking herself in her room. She paced the length of the room, straddling the invisible line between her sparsely decorated side and Beauty Brass' pastel portion.
She'd spoken without thinking; a simple slip of the tongue. Vinyl would understand that. Of course Octavia cared about her! She liked Vinyl!
Mostly.
No, she couldn't think like that! Of course she liked Vinyl; they'd been friends since they were fillies! Or, they had been friends when they were fillies. They hadn't spoken in years, hadn't even sent letters!
Octavia winced. That wasn't true. Vinyl had sent a letter, a few weeks after Gramma Phone's funeral. Written in sloppy writing, even for a filly of Vinyl's age, asking whether Octavia and Harmonia wanted to visit. Vinyl Scratch had gotten her mother's "permish permission and everything", the letter had said. Octavia hadn't answered. And Vinyl hadn't sent any other letters.
Her mood blackening further, Octavia stomped towards the corner of her room. She deftly unzipped her cello's bag, standing and balancing herself against her instrument with practiced ease, poising her bow just above the strings. There was something calming about her cello, the way the bow balanced in her grip or how the strings bit slightly into her hooves or the way everything balanced on Octavia and the endpin or... or something. Octavia had never really thought about it; it was just something her cello did, a side effect of the music. Her breathing lightened. She touched her bow to the strings and began to play.
Johann Sebastian Beak's Cello Suite No.5 in C minor. The first piece Octavia had ever performed solo. She was in her second year of middle school, the last performance of the night, playing to an auditorium full of parents who wanted nothing more than to gather their children and go home. Octavia had tuned her cello just a few minutes prior to her performance, had rosined her bow and poured over the sheet music until the very moment she had been called to take the stage. She wasn't performing the whole suite, only the first two parts: the Prelude and the Allemande, but had committed the entire half hour of music to memory out of some childish fear. Octavia had practiced the piece for months. There was a full minute of stunned silence when Octavia finished the Allemande. Then the applause began.
The notes squeaked out of Octavia's untuned cello, her unrosined bow slipping against the strings as she stood in her dorm room. The music filled her head, filtering out unwanted thoughts, making her wince every time her bow didn't quite find purchase on the strings or her stiff hooves failed to land where they should have. Octavia played through her mistakes, allowing the music to flow through and past every flubbed note. By the time she reached the Allemande there was no room for extraneous thoughts. The Conservatory didn't matter. Octavia's unthinking words didn't matter. Not even Vinyl Scratch mattered. The only important thing in the world was Octavia, her cello, and the quick, demanding notes of the Allemande.
Octavia let the final note fade away, allowing herself a short rest before jumping into the third part of the suite, the Courante.
There was a knock at the door. Octavia stared at it incredulously, almost surprised to hear something besides her cello. There was another knock, then the door opened hesitantly and a mare poked her head into the room.
"Forgive me," Beauty Brass said, "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Octavia released a breath she didn't know she was holding. "It's fine. I was just practicing."
"May I come in?"
"It's as much your room as it is mine."
Beauty Brass smiled, slowing walking into the room and taking a seat on her colorful and pillow-covered bed. Octavia, meanwhile, carefully disentangled herself from her cello and walked it over to its case.
"You don't have to stop on my behalf," Beauty said. "I'll be quiet."
"I was just finishing up," Octavia lied, stowing her cello in its case.
"You're very talented."
Octavia shrugged. "I've been playing ever since I was a filly. I doubt I'm much better than any of the other students in the Conservatory. What instrument do you play, Beauty?"
"Sousaphone, mainly, though I can get a few notes out of most brass instruments."
Octavia raised her eyebrows slightly. "Really?"
Beauty laughed lightly. "Yes, most ponies have that reaction. I guess I'm not really the type."
"I didn't mean it that way!" Octavia protested, shaking her head. "Vinyl isn't the—" She blanched, cutting off her words.
"Are you okay, Octavia?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. What I meant to say was that it's not really surprising, considering your name."
Beauty Brass smiled. "You'd be surprised how much pastel colors and heart-shaped pillows can cover. First impressions and all that."
Octavia chuckled. "Yes. First impressions..."
***
Vinyl hadn't expected much of Canterlot Conservatory. Once, many years ago, Long Play had walked her onto campus, pointing out the tallest buildings and the biggest trees with faux enthusiasm until they found their way into a tour group. Neither of the siblings had listened to a word the tour guide said and, as Vinyl walked through the Conservatory campus as a student, she found herself drawn more towards the tallest buildings and biggest trees than any of the history-rich areas described by the tour guide.
No, Vinyl had never really cared for the Conservatory. She understood that it was a very good school, probably the best in all of Equestria for a music student, but, somehow, Vinyl didn't really care. Maybe it was the way Long Play talked about the school; he was a fantastic musician but a terrible actor and quickly gave up on trying to sell the Conservatory to Vinyl. His heart just wasn't in it and Vinyl, impressionable filly that she was, adopted Long Play's view of the Canterlot Conservatory.
The only thing that mattered to Vinyl was that Tavi would be at the Conservatory. A shallow reason, perhaps, but a valid one in Vinyl's mind.
Vinyl walked through Meadowbrooks Court, a long rectangle of grass dotted with trees and surrounded on three sides by the Conservatory's class buildings. She took a seat beneath one of the taller trees, carefully positioning herself so that the tree covered the sun. Vinyl took off her shades, folding them up and placing them in her saddlebags. The world, little more than shades of purple before, erupted into bright colors that hurt Vinyl's eyes and forced them shut. Somepony was in one the practice rooms, playing piano. The muffled piece carried through a slightly open window and into Meadowbrooks Court.
It was a nice day, Vinyl decided, when she'd managed to open her eyes again. The pegasi were working Summer out of Equestria, slowly bringing about Autumn, but it was pleasantly warm at the moment. Long Play had always said that Canterlot was warmer than Manehattan which confused Vinyl since Canterlot was built on a mountain, but it was definitely true. There wasn't a cloud in Canterlot's sky, but Vinyl knew that Manehattan would already be covered in a grey layer.
Well, it was only going to get colder from here on out. Vinyl wasn't looking forward to it.
"Vinyl?" came a voice from somewhere behind her.
Vinyl turned around. "LP?"
Long Play grinned, trotting over towards Vinyl. "Hey, filly! I thought it was you." He shoved a paper bag towards her. "I heard you did really well on a test or something so I bought you a cupcake. You still like cupcakes, yeah?"
Vinyl floated the cupcake out with her magic, holding it in the air as she hugged the life out of her brother. "I didn't know you'd be coming! When'd you get back?!"
"Few... days ago," Long Play choked out, tapping his sister's back for mercy. "Lungs... failing me."
Vinyl squeezed tighter, then acquiesced, sparing Long Play for the moment. "You should have sent a letter or something."
"We both hate writing letters," LP responded, rubbing at his neck. "And I didn't have any time to write. The only downtime I had was on the train back to Canterlot."
"Sure, whatever," Vinyl responded flippantly. "I bet you had time to write Harmonia."
"Only to talk about you and Octavia."
"Uh-huh."
"Speaking of which," said Long Play, looking around the court, "where is Octavia? I figured you two would be together all the time."
Vinyl masked a frown. "She's just back at the dorm. We have different classes."
"Huh. You two aren't sharing a room, are you?"
"No," Vinyl replied with genuine disappointment.
"Good." Long Play gave a very parental nod.
"What, you don't trust Tavi around me?"
"No, I don't trust you around Octavia," replied Long Play with a smile.
Vinyl laughed.
A pause. Vinyl took a bite of her cupcake. "So, did you come all the way out here just to bring me a sweet?"
"Nah, you're not that important. I'm supposed to talk to Harmonia."
"Planning a Spring wedding?"
"I swear, Vinyl, you're lucky you're a filly."
"Come at me, bro."
Long Play smiled, shaking his head. "Harmonia got me a job interview."
Vinyl slowly chewed on her cupcake.
"Don't give me that look."
"Are you gonna take the interview?"
LP shrugged. "I thought I'd come up with an answer by the time I got to Harmonia."
"Do you wanna take the interview?"
"I don't know if I should, yet."
"Do you wanna take the interview?" Vinyl repeated.
Long Play let out a sigh, scratching at the back of his head. "It's not often you're asked to work at Canterlot Conservatory."
"Yeah, but do you wanna take the interview?"
"I don't know!" Long Play snapped. "Damn it, filly, I brought you a cupcake, you shouldn't be so mean to me."
Vinyl made short work of what remained of the cupcake. "I don't see a cupcake anywhere. Thanks for the cupcake, by the way."
"Don't mention it," LP said sullenly.
A pause. "Well, do you have to answer her today?" Vinyl asked.
"She's been hounding me for months now. Harmonia convinced whoever decides to give out interviews because you're so damn smart." Long Play scowled. "Technically, this is all your fault."
"No it's not."
Long Play sighed again. "Sure, you're right. I'm just gonna head up to Harmonia's office, then."
"What are you gonna tell her?"
"Vinyl, I swear to Celestia!"
***
Harmonia sat at her desk, going over her notes for her next class. A quill, held in Harmonia's mouth, dripped ink onto the wooden floor and a mug of coffee sat precariously close to her notes. She sat motionlessly, staring blankly at the words on her notes. She felt like she should change something, but she had no idea what she needed to do. The other option was not making any kind of change and sticking to what she'd thought out months ago, but that didn't seem right either.
Harmonia stuck her quill into the inkwell and took a sip of her coffee.
What was missing?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her office door.
"Enter," Harmonia called, turning in her chair and pushing her notes away.
There was a slight pause, followed closely by a pair of muffled voices. The door opened hesitantly, and Long Play poked his head in. "Hey, Harmonia."
"Long Play. I hadn't expected to see you so soon. I was sure you'd hold off your decision for as long as possible."
"Yeah, well, I ran into Vinyl on the way here and... yeah." Long Play staggered into the office, physically being pushed forward by his sister.
"Hey Harmonia," Vinyl greeted.
"Professor Philharmonica," Harmonia insisted.
"You're serious about that?"
Harmonia rolled her eyes, shifting her attention towards LP. "Do you have an answer, Long Play?"
"Well..." He scratched the back of his head.
"He's being an idiot," Vinyl said.
"When isn't he?" Harmonia asked.
"All of the mares in my life hate me," Long Play muttered.
"What was that?"
"I said that all of the mares in my life hate me."
"Just making sure," Harmonia said. "So are you accepting the interview or not?"
"I'm not sure if I'm ready to just drop everything and come to the Conservatory."
"Long Play, we've already talked about this."
LP nodded. "Yes we did. And you told me that I'd still be able to write music even if I was a full-time professor, which I probably won't be."
"At first," Vinyl added.
Long Play rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever. I'm fine with that. Making money by teaching and still being able to do music, that's awesome."
"The problem is the Conservatory itself," Harmonia said.
"Exactly!" LP agreed. "Harmonia, I don't know if you've noticed this, but I'm not exactly classically trained. I can read music, but that's about it."
"We've been through this as well, Long Play. You were Vinyl's teacher; there were plenty of students who took the same test Vinyl and Octavia took who had been tutored by classically trained musicians, but didn't even come close to the score Vinyl got."
Long Play shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying. Let's say that I really am this awesome teacher you think I am. That's fine, no problem. But can you imagine me behind a desk or—or grading papers or something? I don't fit in with the aesthetics here, Harmonia."
Harmonia arched an eyebrow. "Is that it?"
"What do you mean 'is that it'?!"
"Honestly, is that what you're worried about? Fitting the aesthetics? Looking the part?"
"It's not just looks, it's everything about me. I'm as far from Conservatory as you can get."
Harmonia glanced towards Vinyl. Vinyl shrugged.
"Alright," said Harmonia. "Alright. Then you'd never fit in at the Conservatory, right?"
Long Play nodded resolutely. "Right."
"So you'd never get the job even if you went through the interview, right?"
"Right."
"But you wouldn't mind a steady paycheck, right?"
"Right—" Long Play faltered. "I mean..."
Harmonia got up from her seat, marching over towards Long Play and slowly herding him towards the exit. "So you might as well go through the interview, right?"
"Wait up, that do—"
"Yes, you'll go through the interview and, on the off-chance that the panel conducting the interview likes you and you get the job, then there's no problem!"
"Harmonia, that doesn't—Stop pushing me!"
"Fantastic!" Harmonia smiled brightly, giving Long Play the final push out of her office. "Then I'll arrange the interview for two days from now. Don't worry, I already have a copy of your résumé. Good-bye, Long Play." She slammed the door in his face.
Long Play hammered on the door, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. "I never agreed to this!"
"Then don't show up to the interview!" Harmonia shouted back.
"You still have my sister in there!"
Harmonia turned, rather surprised to see a grinning Vinyl Scratch still standing in the office.
"You're scary, Professor Philharmonica."
"Yes, well, sometimes your brother doesn't know what he wants. Or how stupid he's being. There's more to somepony than the way they look. Once everypony gets past his first impression, I'm sure they'll love Long Play."
Vinyl shrugged. "If you say so." She walked out of the office, dragging Long Play along as she passed him.
"Vinyl!" Long Play protested. "I've gotta go stop Harmonia!"
"Give it up, LP," Vinyl responded. "This is literally the only way Harmonia would let this end."
Long Play, still being dragged by his sister, glanced back and forth between Vinyl and Harmonia's office. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Vinyl was right.
